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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640274">After the Thaw</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/pseuds/Suzelle'>Suzelle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blades and Bucklers [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Cassandra Pentaghast, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Issues, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Drama, POV Cassandra Pentaghast, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Jaws of Hakkon DLC, Post-War Table Operation: Protect Clan Lavellan (Dragon Age), Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, War Table Operation: Protect Clan Lavellan (Dragon Age) - Success, Warrior Lavellan - Freeform, Wycome (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:47:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/pseuds/Suzelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"In all her travels as Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra had never witnessed anything quite like the city council session in Wycome. Human nobles made up the minority of the council, merchants sitting alongside a pair of city elves, a Dalish elder, and Keeper Istamaethoriel, who somehow looked both out of place and like she belonged nowhere else. Shohreh reluctantly took a seat at the council table between Istamaethoriel and a senior merchant, the tense lines around her eyes slowly fading while council members reported of how relations between humans and elves had improved since the Inquisition flew its banner over Wycome. "</i>
</p><p>Six months after the defeat of Corypheus, Inquisitor Lavellan returns to her clan in Wycome.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Female Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blades and Bucklers [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>After the Thaw</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Featuring, as always, Shohreh Lavellan, disaster warrior elf who has been putting off this clan reunion as long as she possibly can. With thanks, also as always, to Salvage.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They returned from the Frostback Basin to a somewhat emptier Skyhold, or so it seemed to Cassandra. Varric had returned to Kirkwall (she did <em>not </em>miss him, not in the slightest), Dorian prepared to depart for Tevinter, and Sera ran off to some business with the Jennys, taking Cole with her. Shohreh insisted on taking meals with that damned bear, and Divine Victoria’s coronation deprived Cassandra of her other regular dinner partner. She took to sitting alone at the end of a long table in the Great Hall, taking some comfort in watching the quiet bustle of others sitting down to their evening meals with friends who had, in some cases, become family. The constant undercurrent of tension had greatly lessened in the months after Corypheus’ defeat, and if Cassandra became reacquainted with solitude, it was a small price to pay.</p><p>So it was somewhat a surprise when Josephine sat across from her at dinner that night, her hair undone from its usual elaborate knot, and set a bowl of Orlseian fish stew on the table. “May I join you?”</p><p>“Of course,” Cassandra answered, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She and Josephine rarely interacted outside official constraints—indeed, she could not remember if they had ever been in a room alone. All they shared was a friendship with Leliana, and that link now sat on the Sunburst Throne.</p><p>They ate largely in silence, Josephine quickly running through the normal pleasantries, before she steepled her fingers and eyed Cassandra carefully. “I hoped I might ask your assistance on a…somewhat delicate matter.”</p><p>Official business, after all. “Of course,” Cassandra said again, but took a sip from her goblet of wine for good measure.</p><p>“I’ve received another letter from Keeper Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan,” Josephine said, and Cassandra’s spirits sank. “This one decidedly more firm than the last. I’m not sure if you’re aware of just how many requests I have fielded for the Inquisitor to travel to Wycome, or how her perfectly legitimate reasons now sound like bare excuses?”</p><p>“Aware enough.” Cassandra could not stop her mouth from curling upward in mirth. Shohreh could be deeply obstinate when she wished to be—it was a trait she loved about her, when it did not conflict with her own stubborn nature.</p><p>“It is getting ridiculous. And now the nobles in Wycome ask why the Inquisitor is so reluctant to be seen among her own people. Poor Istimaethoriel sounds as if she’s getting personal as well as political pressure—this latest missive included mentions of Lady Lavellan’s mother, who threatens to ride to Skyhold herself if it means seeing her daughter.”</p><p>“Shohreh will love that,” Cassandra muttered. A most un-Josephine-like groan sounded across from her, and she looked up to see that the ambassador looked rather pained. “I am sympathetic to your plight, Lady Montilyet. But I am not sure I’ll have any more success than you.”</p><p>“She will listen to you. These days, you are the <em>only</em> one she listens to.” Josephine eyed her meaningfully. “If I relay the request, I’ll get another obfuscation, or an outright refusal. You might be able to persuade her.”</p><p>Cassandra took another, longer drink of wine and grasped her temples with one hand. Historically, she had very little success in persuading Shohreh to do anything—the Inquisition would have taken a much different shape otherwise. Still, she knew Josephine well enough by now to recognize the frustration beneath her calm, collected posture, and though Cassandra knew little about politics, she was savvy enough to know a visit to Wycome could not be delayed forever.</p><p>“I’ll talk to her. But she won’t be happy.”</p><p>***</p><p>Shohreh, as it turned out, skipped over unhappy and went straight to simmering wrath. “What if I found a new ambassador alongside a new spymaster?”</p><p>Dusk enveloped the grounds of Skyhold, the russet-hued gold of sunset lightening Storvacker’s makeshift enclosure at the outer edge of the stables. Master Dennet, regrettably, had returned home on leave, so there’d been no one to stop Shohreh from depositing her new bear among the other four-legged creatures of the Inquisition, arousing terror from the horses and curiosity from the dracolisks. Cassandra watched Shohreh fling a series of dead fish toward the creature, who sat contentedly on its haunches, far too lazy to make more than the most meager attempts to catch the fish with her mouth.</p><p>“I think you will find Josephine even harder to replace than Leliana,” Cassandra answered dryly. “Her gift lies in her connections, after all.”</p><p>“Including her connections with Deshanna, apparently,” Shohreh groused. Storvarcker snuffled in reply, as if sensing her new guardian’s aggravation, and Shohreh brought over another fish to hand-feed the infernal creature, laughing when Storvacker pushed her nose against the crook of her neck. Shohreh buried her face in the bear’s fur, and Cassandra resisted pinching the bridge of her nose, wondering once more how she’d come to love this woman so deeply. In addition to bear slobber, she had what looked horribly like fish scales and guts stained down the front of her vest, her hair half out of its severe knot, strands trailing from it down the nape of her neck.</p><p>Absolutely impossible.</p><p>She cleared her throat pointedly, and Shohreh shifted so that she leaned against the bear’s flank, telltale stubbornness set in her face when she stared up at Cassandra. “It would have to wait another month. Sera wrote to me about the rebuilding around Redcliffe Farms, we owe it to Master Dennett to make sure—”</p><p>“Josephine has cleared your schedule for the next month. Corporal Vale is perfectly capable of overseeing the rebuilding. He can even send you missives along the road, if you’d like.”</p><p>“Storvacker is still settling in here. I need to make sure she’s given a proper purpose, Cullen wants to parade her around like an amusement—”</p><p>“Shohreh, enough,” Cassandra snapped, her patience starting to fade. “You know better than I that affairs in Wycome require your attention, whether you like it or not. I’ve never seen you shy away from your duty before.”</p><p>She hadn’t meant to frame it as a dare, but it had a better affect than Cassandra could have hoped. Shohreh scowled at her briefly, before she buried her face in her hands and nodded. “I suppose it’s been long enough.”</p><p>“Nineteen months, according to Josephine,” Cassandra said. “Not that your Keeper is counting.”</p><p>“My mother is.” Shohreh’s mouth turned down in bitterness, and a twinge of sympathy nudged at Cassandra.</p><p>“Would it really be so bad?” She understood Shohreh’s reluctance up to a point—she had not returned to Nevarra in over two decades and had no plans to do so anytime soon. But it would have been different if Anthony had lived, if she had memories of her parents beyond shadowed, stilted figures who passed her on to other caretakers so they could defy their king. Shohreh had endured her own losses within Clan Lavellan, but her parents and sister survived, and the letters Cassandra glimpsed from her Keeper carried nothing but fondness. Shohreh spoke of her family more and more frequently as the months wore on, to the point where Cassandra became sure she missed them in her own way.</p><p>“Not any worse than fighting a thousand-year-old magister,” Shohreh sighed. “I only...it was difficult enough, the last time I returned to them after so long an absence. But I was a child then. It’s different now.”</p><p>“<em>You </em>are different,” Cassandra reminded her. “So is your clan. And they owe you their lives, lest any of you forget.”</p><p>“Oh, they will.”</p><p>Cassandra did not have an answer for that. Shohreh heaved a great sigh and hauled herself to her feet, giving Storvacker a final, affectionate pat before she wiped her face with a towel and came to join Cassandra at the enclosure’s edge.</p><p>“Would it be easier if I came with you?” Cassandra asked. “Or if I remained here?”</p><p>Shohreh lifted her head up to smile at Cassandra, her brown eyes warm with the love she knew so well. “Everything is easier when you’re with me, ma vhenan. And I’d like for you to meet them. At the least, you’ll have faces for names.”</p><p>“I’d be glad to,” Cassandra said. Shohreh kissed her, the taste of fruit on her tongue making up for the stink of bear, and Cassandra wound her fingers through her hair, pressing her close to shut out the evening’s chill.</p><p>***</p><p>Cassandra regretted her commitment the moment they stepped onto the docks at Jader, seasickness stretching the journey into miserable eternity. She’d endured the short, daylong voyage between Orlais and the Marches plenty of times before, but traveling to Wycome involved sailing east out to the Amarathine Ocean on a weeklong voyage that rendered her weak and shivering in her bunk. Shohreh remained largely silent, present to gently rub Cassandra’s back as she leaned over the ship’s side and listen when she ranted about her traitor body, but in her rare moments of lucidity Cassandra caught her staring out over the ocean, her inscrutable Inquisitor’s mask on even when they were alone.</p><p>Lady Voltant and Lieutenant Chambreterre met them at the docks, Inquisition banner flying behind them, but Cassandra could barely manage a formal greeting, still shaky when she stepped onto solid ground. Shohreh seemed more than happy to delay an extra day at the portside inn, and Cassandra spent most of the afternoon in bed, nibbling at dry biscuits and broth that smelled too much like fish. Her mind churned along with her stomach, irritated beyond measure she could not take part in whatever briefing happened downstairs, but she would have to trust that Shohreh to pass on any knowledge she might need.</p><p>She woke in the morning feeling refreshed but far too thin, and Shohreh helped her put on her full Seeker’s armor for the first time in days. She did her best to ignore how heavy it felt, the cool air of the coast bracing enough that she could present her usual, somewhat frightening self to the soldiers who formed their official guard. Shohreh joined their party resplendent in Dalish warrior armor, crafted with nevarrite and gleaming violet in the morning sun, the reforged Sulevin blade strapped to her back. She calculated her charms as she smiled and greeted their retinue, a perfect image of the soft-spoken yet steel-hearted Inquisitor minstrels sung of in taverns throughout Thedas. An image Cassandra loved no less than the real Shohreh, whose blasphemies and horrible jokes rivaled Varric's when she truly reached a mood.</p><p>Cassandra squeezed Shohreh's hand before she mounted a white halla, and they rode through the city to the main keep just above the mouth of the Minanter river. A mixed group of humans, city elves, and Dalish stood to greet them before the Keep, many dressed in the finery of nobles but others in simple outfits of halla wool. A formidable, white-haired elf who bore vague resemblance to Shohreh stood in front of the group, a mage’s staff in her hand and branchlike tattoos across her face, the ink a pale green against brown skin. Cassandra thought she saw tears well in Shohreh’s eyes, but she blinked them away by the time she dismounted. She stepped forward until she stood a mere foot away from the white-haired elf and knelt before the crowd, head bowed with her left fist over her heart.</p><p>“<em>Andaran atish’an, hahren</em>.” She murmured the words so softly Cassandra could barely hear her. Keeper Deshanna Istamaethoriel let out an impatient-sounding snort and gestured for Shohreh to rise to her feet. She took her by both arms, inspecting her critically in a way that reminded Cassandra strongly of Vivienne.</p><p>“Is this how my niece would greet me? Stiffness and formality, with no thought to how I’ve worried for her since the skies tore open?”</p><p>Shohreh turned bright red, but then she broke into a wide grin, in the purest display of happiness Cassandra had seen from her in weeks.</p><p>“I’m sorry, auntie,” Shohreh said sheepishly, and Deshanna pulled her into a tight embrace.</p><p>“None of that, da’len. Not now, when you have lifted the People higher than any of us could have dreamed.”</p><p>***</p><p>In all her travels as Right Hand of the Divine, Cassandra had never witnessed anything quite like the city council session in Wycome, the chamber full to bursting with citizens eager to observe the proceedings. Human nobles made up the minority of the council, merchants sitting alongside a pair of city elves, a Dalish elder, and Keeper Istamaethoriel, who somehow looked both out of place and like she belonged nowhere else, her mages’ staff and commanding voice drawing all eyes to her. Shohreh reluctantly took a seat at the council table between Istamaethoriel and a senior merchant, the tense lines around her eyes slowly fading while council members reported of how relations between humans and elves had improved since the Inquisition flew its banner over Wycome.</p><p>“We owe our greatest thanks to Lady Volant,” Valenna said, with a nod to where the diplomat sat, hands folded over violet silks. “It’s due to her negotiations that the red lyrium conspiracy was unmasked and our would-be enemies pledged peace.”</p><p>“Do you feel you are in a position for the Inquisition to withdraw?” Shohreh asked. Surprised murmurings rippled across the chamber, and Cassandra bit down on her lip, the question one the Inquisitor had begun asking at every place their forces were camped. But Shohreh quickly picked up on the mood and shifted tacks graciously, her warm smile and wide gestures setting her audience at ease. “We will stay as long as you feel we are needed, of course. But neither do I wish for us to wear out our welcome.”</p><p>“It would be difficult to accomplish that,” a human council member replied. “The other states have been placated for now, but our endeavors threaten to upend the status quo throughout the Marches. And our steps toward reform have not always been the smoothest.”</p><p>Shohreh conceded the point with a nod, and a brief flutter of pride rose within Cassandra as she watched the rest of the proceedings. Whatever insecurities she voiced behind closed doors, publicly, Shohreh wielded leadership with such ease that Cassandra often forgot the blank, frightened look that had overtaken her when Leliana first presented her with the Inquisitor’s sword in Skyhold. She owned any missteps she took, earning her the respect of anyone who disagreed with her, and navigated politics with a deftness Cassandra could never hope to match. Not that she’d want to, in any case. The farther she stepped from her candidacy for Divine, the happier she became that the position had gone to Justinia’s Left Hand.</p><p>The council adjourned shortly after midday, and a handful of Dalish elves surrounded Shohreh, whose weariness would only be noticeable to those who knew her well. Not wishing to interfere, Cassandra hung back, unsure if she would be introduced to Clan Lavellan as the Inquisitor’s lieutenant or her lover. Shohreh’s smile became fixed when she greeted certain clan members, shifting into genuine joy only when a young Dalish woman dressed in city clothes burst into the chambers and rushed toward the small crowd. Shohreh let out a small shriek of joy, and the woman tackled her in a hug so fierce they both practically tumbled to the ground.</p><p>“<em>Aneth ara, da'vhenan</em>,” Shohreh said with a laugh, her eyes bright. They talked over each other in a mix of Elvhen and Common, too rapid for Cassandra to make anything out, and a pang shot through her at the sight, the knowledge of the woman’s identity settling into place. Shohreh practically ran over to Cassandra, the young woman in tow, grinning so broadly that despite her distant, selfish grief Cassandra could not help but smile in turn.</p><p>“Cassandra, this is Amaya,” she said. “My little sister.”</p><p>“Not so little,” Amaya said, and gave Shohreh a playful shove. Getting a good look at them both, the resemblance was practically uncanny—Amaya stood a few inches taller, her nose somewhat larger, but otherwise the two could be mistaken for twins. Even her vallaslin appeared to honor the same god, though Amaya’s spread more extensively across her face than Shohreh’s, with vines along her cheeks and a quartet of dots below each eye. She gave a disarming, cheeky sort of grin, but bowed to them both with all the formality of a diplomat, left hand clasped to her chest.</p><p>“I’m delighted to meet you, Seeker Pentaghast. If the stories are to be believed, you’ve saved my sister’s life on more than one occasion.”</p><p>Cassandra bent in as gracious a bow as she could muster. “She’s returned the favor. Many times over.”</p><p>“Ah, yes.” Amaya gave her a knowing wink. “’The warrior women with their seductive swords, carving romance out of ashes’ ruins.’”</p><p>Cassandra flushed instantly, her skull constricting in the way that preceded a headache, and Shohreh groaned beside her. “Creators preserve us. Is that the drivel Maryden wrote?”</p><p>“I can’t say who wrote it, but it’s all over Wycome.” Amaya gave Shohreh a sympathetic pat. “Don’t worry, sister—mother still refuses to come anywhere within the city limits, and I’ve made sure it doesn’t reach her ears. If you wish to fall upon that sword, you can do it yourself.”</p><p>Cassandra raised her eyebrows at them both, the obvious question unasked, but Shohreh averted her gaze and draped her arm around her sister once more. “Tell me everything I need to know, Amaya. The good and the bad.”</p><p>***</p><p>Amaya proved to be Shohreh’s opposite in nearly everything but looks—where the elder Lavellan acted guarded and measured outside her inner circle, Amaya proved to be vivacious and charismatic, carrying much of the conversation as they walked through the city.</p><p>“Auntie asked me to serve as a liaison of sorts to the city elves. I tell you, Shohreh, I understand now why you missed Ansburg so much. The alienage is still ruled by poverty, of course, but we make strides every day. And the culture in Wycome! I never knew such grand affairs could be held in so small a space.”</p><p>“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Shohreh asked, but her smile became fixed once more.</p><p>“Your less imaginative hunter friends don’t know what to do with themselves, now that we’ve been in one place well over a year. Some fear a fissure within the clan, but anyone so foolish to think that…”</p><p>Cassandra slowed so that she walked a bit behind Amaya and Shohreh, listening in silence while they talked of clan affairs and relatives she’d never heard of. Her heart tightened at their similarity in mannerisms, the way they both talked with their hands and walked with singular purpose. The sisters were much closer in age than she and Anthony had been, separated by only a couple of years, but it still made her wish fiercely she could have known him as an older man. He would be well into middle age now, and she could not picture him without a wife and children at his side, his generous heart not meant for solitude. What would he think of her, she often wondered, of the woman she’d grown into and the choices she’d made? So much of her life had been defined by his death, her pursuit of the Seekers and her abandonment of Nevarra. Perhaps she would not be here, trailing after her love and doomed to her own chapter in the history books.</p><p>She became so lost in her melancholy she barely noticed when they reached the walls of the city, looking up only at the sight of Deshanna standing with Voltant, Chambreterre, and a handful of Inquisition agents. “I thought I’d walk with you to the encampment. We haven’t had a formal welcoming of the Inquisition yet, hoping to wait until you joined us.”</p><p>“<em>Ma serannas</em>.” Shohreh bowed her head, gestured in impatience for the agents to drop their salutes, and stepped out the city gate with her sister at her side. Deshanna fell into step with Cassandra, her mage staff doubling as a walking stick, her sharp brown eyes stark beneath the branches spread across her forehead.</p><p>“And what do you make of us, Seeker Pentaghast? I’m told Shohreh prizes your opinion above all others.”</p><p>“That is debatable,” Cassandra’s mouth quirked in a wry smile. “But I think what you’ve done here is remarkable. Between your efforts here and those of the Marquise of the Dales, the conditions of your people may improve throughout Thedas.”</p><p>“And all accomplished by my overly determined niece. If I had foreseen any of this, when I sent her to spy on the Conclave…”</p><p>Cassandra gave her a sidelong glance, then looked to where Shohreh walked well ahead of them, Chambreterre now at her side. “She never told me you two were related.”</p><p>Deshanna chuckled. “Clan life is such that we are all kin in some way. But yes, she is the daughter of my youngest brother. An echo in every way—you will see, when you meet him. It’s allowed me to understand her in ways others cannot. The last of our lost children.”</p><p>A memory of Shohreh bloomed in her mind, bright-eyed and bitter on that horrible day when the Anchor nearly consumed her, fearful her clan had banished her in sending her to the Conclave. Looking at Deshanna now, faint sadness settling over her features, Cassandra could not imagine such sentiment lay with her.</p><p>“I should warn you, Seeker Pentaghast, that your welcome among my people may be mixed. We have changed, learning to trust humans as we live alongside them, but that we’ve been forced into such trust is a source of pain for many. To some, Shohreh’s very existence heightens such pain. She’s told you, I presume, of her childhood?”</p><p>“She has.” Shohreh did not tell her the full story until well after Halamshiral: of how humans ambushed her clan and forced them to flee, believing her and two other children to have died, how a kindly guard-captain outside Ansburg rescued them and raised them as her own. How, six years later, the guard-captain tracked down their clan only for the children to return as outsiders, forever shaped by two worlds that could not leave room for their circumstance.</p><p>“If you knew the grief of those years, the guilt we bore in leaving them behind....” Deshanna shook her head. “To find them again only to lose Mithran to illness, and Enaya back to Ansburg. Only Shohreh left to bear our failure. Our fury was aimed at the <em>shemlen</em> who attacked us, but the children caught the worst of it. Some will now aim that fury at you. I can put a stop to inhospitable actions toward an honored guest, but I cannot change my peoples’ hearts. All I ask is for understanding.”</p><p>A foreboding sense of dread settled over Cassandra, heightened by the way Shohreh clenched her fists ahead of them, but she merely nodded to the elf beside her. “If I wished for popularity, I’d have chosen a different profession.”</p><p>Deshanna snorted. “By the Creators. No wonder she likes you.”</p><p>***</p><p>The Dalish encampment lay just outside of Wycome's walls, with more signs of permanency than Cassandra had ever seen in an Elvhen camp. A pair of new-looking cedar structures stood flanked by aravels, a herd of halla grazing contentedly a bit beyond the cluster of campfires that burned in the late-afternoon sun. A small crowd had gathered at the camp’s edge, and Cassandra again hung back, this time joined by the Inquisition representatives. But Shohreh doubled back when she realized she walked to meet her clan alone, fondness and apprehension in her eyes when she took Cassandra’s hand. She gave her a swift, pointed kiss on the cheek, leaning in so that her breath tickled Cassandra’s ear.</p><p>“You are here as the Inquisition’s founder, and you are here as <em>ma sa'lath</em>,” she murmured. “Mythal take anyone who challenges that.”</p><p>An energetic young woman with cropped, curly hair stepped forward to introduce herself as the clan’s First, and Shohreh embraced her with a delighted laugh. It became easy to see who she greeted with genuine joy and who prompted a slip into stiff formality, her fellow hunters rewarded with teasing and tight hugs but the clan’s halla-keeper barely earning a nod. At last, the crowd parted to reveal a dark-haired woman beside a tall, dignified-looking man, their eyes both full with tears. Shohreh did not speak, merely stepped forward and fell into her parents’ embrace, burying her head in her father’s shoulder. Cassandra stiffened when Shohreh took them each by the hand and brought them over to the Inquisition agents, her eyes bright as she beheld Cassandra. </p><p>“I'd like you to meet Cassandra Pentaghast. My—” here she only briefly hesitated. “My first lieutenant and love.”</p><p>An inexplicable ache filled Cassandra at the words, but she met the eyes of Laia and Amir Lavellan, Laia’s face carved as if from stone, and gave a formal bow.</p><p>“<em>Andaran atish’an</em>.” She was absolutely certain she’d butchered the pronunciation, despite weeks of effort, but Laia rewarded her with a polite smile and inclined her head.</p><p>“Seeker Pentaghast. I thank you for my daughter’s life.”</p><p>Cassandra gave a small nod in return, but before she could respond further Deshanna stepped forward, tapping her staff on the ground five times in succession. The chattering of the crowd fell away, all eyes on the formidable Keeper, and Deshanna raised both her arms in a smile</p><p>“This is a joyous day for Clan Lavellan, when a child returns to us after countless labors with her allies against the darkness. Let us feast in their honor, and give thanks to the Creators for a brighter future.”</p><p>Cassandra relaxed somewhat as food and drink began to appear. Those who eyed Inquisition officials with dark looks and mistrust kept their distance, and Shohreh introduced her to the clan’s warleader, Ehsan, a compact man with a craggy face who wanted every detail of their battle against the Jaws of Hakkon. The younger hunters of the clan surrounded them like ducklings, eager for Shohreh to display the reforged Sulevin blade. After a great deal of cajoling, Shohreh and Cassandra indulged them in an exhibitionist match. For once Cassandra proved to be the weaker opponent, still out of sorts from her illness, but she took it as a blessing in disguise, hoping she might soften the more hostile elves in humble defeat. Cheers echoed through the camp when Shohreh employed her signature move, bashing Cassandra in the chest with her sword pommel to send her sprawling on the ground. She brought herself to her feet with a satisfied groan, and accepted a cool cup of water from Chambreterre with thanks.</p><p>“Did you teach her that?” Amaya came up beside them, dark hair cascading behind her. She’d changed back into traditional Dalish wear, though she kept the looping earrings that adorned her right ear. “She’d never have had the guts for such a move in the old days.”</p><p>“I certainly did not.” Cassandra could not stop indignation from creeping into her voice. “I always presumed it to be a Dalish technique.”</p><p>“Perhaps it is. Ehsan is a cunning old bastard.” Amaya shook her head with a chuckle, before she sighed and took a long drink from the cup in her hand. “You have to hand it to her. Only my sister would embroil herself in an Andrastian crusade to get away from our mother.”</p><p>Cassandra snorted. “She speaks of her rarely. Do they not get along?”</p><p>Amaya let out a low, hooting laugh. “I am <em>entirely</em> too sober to answer that question, Lady Seeker. Here, finish this one off while while I get another.”</p><p>She offered her cup to Cassandra, who took it with a nod of thanks. The contents of the cup were clear, the strong smell of liquor reaching her nostrils, and she drank it hard and fast. Her vision whited out momentarily when she swallowed, a horrible mixture of wood and lye passing down the back of her throat and up her nostrils as she choked. Cassandra thought herself capable of handling even the strongest alcohol, but she coughed violently as the aftertaste hit her, looking up to see that several onlookers snickered at her plight. Shohreh noticed the commotion and ran up to them with a wordless squawk of indignation, glowering at Amaya, who howled with open laughter.</p><p>“You absolute <em>hellion</em>,” Shohreh punched Amaya soundly on the arm. “Giving Deshanna's brew to an outsider without warning!”</p><p>Amaya continued to laugh. “Worth it every time. It’s your turn now, sister. A welcome-home toast for us all.”</p><p>“Absolutely not.”</p><p>Cassandra swallowed again, this time with a choked sort of laugh, her eyes watering as she regarded Shohreh in a new light. “Now I know how you tolerated that swill the Qunari drinks.”</p><p>Shohreh shuddered at the memory, then took the cup from Cassandra and poured the rest of the liquor into the dirt. “Child’s play, vhenan. Child’s play.”</p><p>***</p><p>Twilight enveloped them when they sat down to the evening meal, Cassandra in a secluded corner away from the central camp with Shohreh and her immediate family. They sat on blankets woven of halla wool before a smaller fire, fish roasted in saffron and salt prepared by Shohreh’s father.</p><p>“It is providence that if we must choose a place to settle, it is by the sea,” Amir said. “Our people are not accustomed to the pull of the tides, but they guide us as much as the Creators do.”</p><p>“I’m glad for it.” Shohreh smiled warmly at her father. “I loved the months we dwelt north of here as a child, outside Bastion. When you taught me to swim against the waves.”</p><p>Laia gave a light laugh, her eyes crinkling when she smiled. “One bright spot amidst all this madness. When you return to us, you can stand along the shoreline as long as you wish.”</p><p>Shohreh froze for a moment, her hand poised just before her mouth, but she gave a tiny nod before she continued to eat, not refuting her mother’s statement but not conceding either.</p><p>“What do you see next for the Inquisition, Seeker Pentaghast?” Laia asked, her gaze hardening slightly when she met Cassandra’s eyes. “I confess I still know little of the Chantry and its many branches. Surely they will not permit a Dalish elf to hold such high office for long.”</p><p>Sensing a trap, Cassandra glanced at Shohreh, whose lips thinned in disapproval, then at Amaya, who gave a half shrug in resignation. One of Varric’s many blasphemies echoed in her mind before she answered, “Shohreh has proven herself to the Inquisition many times over, and the Inquisition has proven its need to Thedas. So long as chaos reigns, I see us in Skyhold, aiding where we are called.”</p><p>The answer did not appear to satisfy Laia. She held Cassandra’s gaze, the flames blending in with twilight to illuminate the fine lines along her face. “But you will release her from her service, when the time comes.”</p><p>“Must we do this now, mother?” Shohreh asked quietly.</p><p>“Two years gone, da’len,” Laia said with dangerous calm. “I do not think it unreasonable that I ask when you will return to us for good.”</p><p>Amir placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “<em>Vhenan…</em>”</p><p>Quiet anger radiated out from Laia, and Cassandra sensed her standing among the Lavellan clan hinged on how she navigated this conversation. She glanced down at the Seekers’ emblem on her armor and wished she’d chosen something plainer, something that did not represent those who once tried to force conversion from the Dalish. “Your daughter is a symbol of hope to many people, Lady Lavellan. Whatever she chooses for her future, all of Thedas will look to her.”</p><p>“A symbol created by your hand, Seeker.” Laia’s lip curled upward in a faint sneer. “You took my daughter and used her for your own ends, just as she’s been used before.”</p><p>“I made my own choices,” Shohreh said, her voice still quiet but edged with steel. “And if you’d like a plain answer, I choose to remain in Skyhold. It is my home now.”</p><p>A thundercloud settled over the family, silence descending to painfully heighten the sounds of revelry just a bit away. Laia’s lips thinned, her eyes turning hard in a way her daughter’s did when she lost her temper, and she knit her hands tightly together. “So you would leave us again. Are we truly so repulsive to you?”</p><p>“<em>I</em> would leave you again<em>,</em>” Shohreh echoed. “Do you blame me for Ansburg, Mamae? For a child’s stumbling in the dark?”</p><p>Laia flushed slightly but held her ground. “Of course not. But it pains me, da’len, to see the <em>shemlen</em> dig their claws into you once more, twisting you around until you no longer call your people your own.”</p><p>“You have no idea what I’ve suffered for our people,” Shohreh hissed. “What forces I have bound myself to for the sake of this world.”</p><p>“And what of your family? What of those who love you, who have now grieved your loss twice? Abandoned to this cursed valley, subject to the whims of <em>elvhen'alas </em>and <em>shemlen</em>...”</p><p>Amaya stirred in irritation. “Do not call them <em>elvhen'alas</em>, Mamae. Not when you refuse to enter the city. City elves and humans alike have befriended us, just as Shohreh always told…”</p><p>“Don’t,” Shohreh bit out. “Don’t pretend you suddenly understand. Not when you pushed us away all our childhood.”</p><p>Amaya blinked in surprise and hurt, but when she reached out to take her sister’s hand Shohreh pulled it back against her chest. “Shohreh, I—”</p><p>“The hypocrisy,” Shohreh growled low in her throat. “That you all settle into Wycome now, easy as you please, when I was soft and thin-blooded after I came back from Ansburg<em>.</em> At least Mamae sticks to her convictions. Fuck the <em>shemlen</em> and any hint of fondness for them.”</p><p>All three Lavellan women exploded in that moment, shouting at each other in a rapid, furious dialect, Elvhen and Common combining until Cassandra gave up trying to follow. Amir sat silently as his wife and daughters argued, speaking once only to have Laia round on him in a fury. Finally, Shohreh stood up swiftly, her fists clenched, eyes glassy with tears, and she tossed a twig she’d been twisting between her hands into the fire, sparks crackling upward.</p><p>“I don’t know why I came back.”</p><p>Cassandra watched her stalk into the darkness, the glimmer of her blade shining before it too disappeared. A profoundly awkward silence extended outward to the rest of the camp, the elves seated before the main fire turned to stare at the source of the shouting. At the edge of the crowd, she saw Deshanna bury her head in one hand while Lady Voltant appeared horrified, a break in the peace she had so worked toward for the Dalish. Only this time the instigator was her own leader.</p><p>“Show’s over,” Amaya snapped, and stood with an impatient wave of her arm. “Find some other drivel to gossip about.”</p><p>The camp settled back into the regular hum of a feast, a lute and reed pipe brought out to add music to the celebrations. Laia stalked back toward one of the aravels, leaving Cassandra before the little fire with Amir, who stared at his hands in silence before he looked up at Cassandra.</p><p>“Do you love her?” was all he asked.</p><p>Cassandra blinked, taken aback by the question, though she’d found the answer to it long ago. “Yes. Yes, I do.”</p><p>“She’ll take more comfort from you than me, then.” He stood to follow his wife, but stopped and turned. “I do not give my trust lightly, Seeker, and I cannot give it to you now. But I trust my daughter. Do not make me regret it.”</p><p>***</p><p>Cassandra associated the Dalish with lush, deep forests, stars blocked by a multitude of trees, but here in the valley all was starkly visible if one climbed a bit up the slopes, from the aravels to the elves dancing around the fire to the woman seated on a grassy knoll, staring out with a tearstained face. The sea breeze of the coast reached them even here, and Cassandra breathed in the smell of salt as she approached Shohreh. The Sulevin blade lay beside her, and she hugged her knees around her chest, the Anchor fizzling and cracking out of her left palm. Dismay filled Cassandra as she knelt before Shohreh, taking her birdlike wrist in one hand. The faintly acrid stench of Fade magic rose up around her, green arcs dancing around themselves, and she cursed under her breath.</p><p>“Andraste’s mercy. When did this start up again?”</p><p>“It’s all right,” Shohreh murmured. “It’s my own little mood detector, has been since I closed the second Breach. It always fades with my anger.”</p><p>Fear and doubt churned within Cassandra, convinced that Shohreh once again masked the worst of her pain, but that was not what mattered most now. Tears still ran down Shohreh’s face before she wiped at them furiously with the heel of her right hand.</p><p>“I should apologize to Amaya,” Shohreh sniffed. “She was only trying to help. I can't blame her for we did as children.”</p><p>The old grief shot through Cassandra again, her mind seared by the image of her brother’s headless corpse falling into the dust, but she banished it with a shake of her head. “You are fortunate, to have her by your side.”</p><p>“I am. When I think of how close I came to losing her, losing them all…” Shohreh’s eyes filled with tears again, a soft sob escaping her, and Cassandra pulled her close to let her cry. Shohreh let out a deep, shuddering sigh and took Cassandra’s hand between hers, twitchy fingers fiddling with the ironbark ring she’d given to her.</p><p>“When we first met, you told me it would not be the same, if I ever returned to my clan. How I wish you were right. Ehsan says that those who despise our new alliances blame it on me, for the attention I’ve drawn them as Inquisitor. I still have friends in the clan, but I will never be part of it again, not in the same way. Perhaps I never was.”</p><p>“You carry the Well of Sorrows within you,” Cassandra said, unable to suppress a shudder. Her greatest fear still lay with whatever part of Mythal dwelt within Shohreh, that one day that wretched Flemeth would reappear and take away her love for some selfish whim. “I would say that gives you the right to be part of any clan.”</p><p>“If only it worked that way," Shohreh gave her a sad smile. "Do you remember what she said to me? <em>'You have come far, and you do the People proud.'  </em>After fearing so long I had failed them, that is what the Protector herself tells me. But no Lavellan would say those words."</p><p>"Your sister would. Your Keeper would." </p><p>"My mother would not. If I told her any of it, I doubt she would…” Shohreh trailed off.</p><p>“The worst part is, it’s not her fault. It’s not her fault she spent six years grieving a daughter lost to the <em>shemlen’</em>s hatred, only to have her rise from the dead, grown into a stranger. But I can’t make myself be different.”</p><p>“No,” Cassandra said. “Neither can she.”</p><p>Shohreh nodded, and for a time they heard nothing but the quiet song of crickets, coaxing out the stars that would soon blanket the night sky.</p><p>“Do you really plan to stay in Skyhold forever?” Cassandra finally asked.</p><p>“I don’t know. I wish to remain wherever you are, but something tells me a physical home will matter less to you, as you rebuild the Seekers.” She gave Cassandra a questioning glance, and she nodded. She had plans, duties to undertake before she could truly begin her mission, but it would involve a great many journeys. It had always been unspoken between her and Shohreh that they may be separated for a time.</p><p>“A large part of me wants to go back to Stone-Bear Hold, take my place as First-Thaw.” She gave a wry chuckle. “Who would have thought I’d feel most at home among a clan of Avvar.”</p><p>Cassandra snorted. She lost track of how many aggrieved groans she’d let out in those days among the people of Stone-Bear, but Shohreh had been a glorious sight to behold, the sun shining golden on her hair as she stared out at the fog rising from lake, sweat glistening on her arms when she climbed the sheer cliffside. A sense of peace settled over her in the Basin that Cassandra had never seen, a clan somewhat like hers and yet apart, one that accepted her with all her flaws. As the Inquisition itself did, as Cassandra did.</p><p>Shohreh shook her head. “I have thought so much of Ameridan, since we came back from there. Of his memories, and what guided him. Maker and Evanuris both. His friends, as dear to him as family. And I…I see us splintering. Varric and Sera gone, Dorian soon to follow. Bull will remain, and Cole, I hope, but...”</p><p>With care, Cassandra removed the ironbark ring to hold it between her thumb and forefinger, the metal glinting slightly under the half moon. The light drew Shohreh’s eye to it, just long enough before Cassandra slid it back over her finger, the weight now familiar on her hand. “We made promises, the day you gave this to me. I intend to keep them. Wherever you make your home, I shall make it mine too.”</p><p>Shohreh bit down on her lip and nodded, her eyes bright once more, and she embraced Cassandra tightly.</p><p>“A home, together,” she said, her voice muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. “You, and me, and Storvacker.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>“No.” Cassandra pulled back so that Shohreh could see her slightly teasing smile. “But if she returned to Stone-Bear Hold, and you did as well, perhaps we could be neighbors.”</p><p>Shohreh laughed. “I’ll settle for that.”</p><p>***</p><p>Cassandra made herself scarce for the rest of the evening, watching the rest of the crowd dance and laugh around the fire, slowly sipping at a golden wine Chambreterre had found for her. Shohreh flitted through the crowd, her practiced smile returned, and a hard knot in Cassandra’s chest loosened slightly to see her and Amaya twirl each other around in a flighty sort of dance, their quarrel seemingly resolved.</p><p>Deshanna found Cassandra as the night wound down, her white hair uncoiled and streaming down her back. She gripped her staff to lever herself into a seat beside Cassandra, her eyes crinkling when she gave her a droll smile. “You’ve survived Laia, then.”</p><p>“Well enough,” Cassandra said. “I only hope I did not make things worse.”</p><p>“You didn’t. Well, you did, but it’s not your fault. Things were fraught enough between Shohreh and her mother far before she added in the disgrace of bedding a <em>shemlen</em>.” Deshanna snorted. “Not that I’m happy about it either. But she could have done worse.”</p><p>Cassandra arched an eyebrow. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”</p><p>“Oh, absolutely. I’m a very hard woman to impress, Seeker Pentaghast.” Deshanna gave a light laugh, a mischievous gleam behind her eyes, but then she shook her head, resting her elbows on her thighs as she stared into the fire.</p><p>“Two years ago, I thought Shohreh had finally established her place among us, taken the loss of Enaya and Mithran and knit their memories back into our hearts. And here our lives unravel from each other once again. The world’s salvation, but a tear in the fabric of our clan. <em>Fen'Harel enansal</em>.”</p><p>The Dread Wolf’s blessing. Cassandra had absorbed enough Elvhen to understand that. Shohreh had muttered it often, in the days between Haven and Skyhold, the taste of life bittersweet when so many others had died. Deshanna glanced at her with deep brown eyes, so like her niece’s, and she gripped Cassandra’s shoulder tight.</p><p>“You’re her family now, Seeker. Take care of her, would you? She’s done enough of it herself.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My headcanon is that Dalish moonshine tastes like malört, in honor of my own sister, who tries to convince everyone it’s good (it’s not).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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